


Pieces of you

by Nightsdawn



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Childhood Friends, Confessional Sex, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Neck Kissing, Porn with Feelings, Surprise Kissing, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24534154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightsdawn/pseuds/Nightsdawn
Summary: Tomorrow decides everything. The fate of Foldan, the Kingdom, and everyone Ingrid holds dear. Most of her comrades are choosing to stay with their lovers tonight. Where does that leave Ingrid? Alone in bed, longing for Sylvain.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 18
Kudos: 119





	Pieces of you

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much fraldariuwus for betaing this story as well as encouraging me to write it! You are a rare gem!  
> The gorgeous cover artwork was done by @yzderia  
> The beautiful picture in the middle of the story is done by @sassyeol on twitter.

Tomorrow decides everything. The fate of Foldan, the Kingdom, and everyone Ingrid holds dear. Most of her comrades are choosing to stay with their lovers tonight. Byleth and Dimitri not so subtly stated they would have a late night "tactics meeting" in Byleth's quarters. Dorothea winked at Ingrid earlier when she passed Ingrid's room and entered Felix's. She even spotted a romantic scene in the library between Ashe and Annette when returning a book. Perhaps the sweetest sighting of the evening was Mercedes sitting on Dedue's lap, feeding him her famously delicious cupcakes. Where does that leave Ingrid? Alone in bed, longing for Sylvain.

As much as Ingrid would like to deny it, the truth is, she's in love with Sylvain Jose Gautier. The forbidden fruit that has dangled in front of her the entirety of her life. The reckless, spiteful, heart-breaker, who also happens to be her best friend.

When was it? Can Ingrid even remember? The exact moment Sylvain stole her heart and occupied her every thought. Was it Sylvain's failed attempts at getting her to leave her room after Glenn's death? Or could it have been even earlier? That day she was forced into a dress, but secretly hoped for Sylain's compliment. Instead, she found him flirting with her Granny!

No, those are only small pieces of the intricate puzzle of her affections for him. Every day, more pieces are added, and it only becomes more challenging sorting them all out. Today's piece consisted of a rather arousing sparring session with him. The summer sun was beating down on them, and Sylvain removed his shirt, complaining about the heat. Ingrid couldn't help but admire his perfectly chiseled chest glistening as the sunbeams reflected off his sweat. 

Recalling Sylvain like that lights a flame in Ingrid's core, her fingers glide down her silky green slip, tucking under her smallclothes. Sylvain's handsome face, his muscles rippling as he thrusts his lance. Short breaths escape her lips as her mind's imaginings wander down his body. To his thick thighs straddling hers and his firm ass just within her reach. Her pace quickens. The thought of Sylvain on her sends a shiver up Ingrid's spine. 

_You're beautiful,_ the memory of Sylvain's words rings in Ingrid's ear, sweat forms on her forehead, as Ingrid nears her peak.

But Ingrid's startled out of her fantasy when two loud knocks sound at her door.

Whom could it be so late at night? This better be important. Stumbling about her dark room, Ingrid wraps herself in a robe and opens the door.

Sylvain's flushed face greets her, "Ing...hi...uh…"

"Sylvain," Ingrid crosses her arms over her chest in a poor attempt to hide the state she's in. "What are you doing here?" She dare not get her hopes up. How many times has he rattled on her door asking for help or a hiding place?

As Sylvain pauses, scratching the back of his neck, Ingrid can't help but notice Sylvain is dressed in a similar robe to her own. It reminds her of home. Home, the word feels heavy on her chest. Will she ever see Faerghus again?

"Ing?" There's some concern in Sylvain's gaze.

"Sorry, I just noticed our robes are similar. It reminded me of home," Ingrid says. She hopes Sylvain misses the crack in her voice.

Of course, he doesn't. Sylvain's strong arms sweep her into a tight hug. "You sound so sad, Ing. Can I make you feel better?" his voice is low, tender, and oh so seductive. This is a familiar puzzle piece. Ingrid knows she can enjoy it for only a few seconds before she must push him away. Being close to Sylvain is about self-preservation, she can bask in his warmth, but too long, and she'll be burnt. 

Pushing him back, Ingrid says, "I'm fine. Why are you here now?" 

"Well, tomorrow's the last battle...and...I...uh…well...you.." He is stuttering, _again_. Quite unusual for him. Unless...could she allow herself a sliver of belief? Peering deep into his amber eyes, she prays to the Goddess, like she used to as a girl, for her wish to come true. For him to choose her. It's probably their last chance. "Good luck tomorrow! I'll do my best, so stay by my side, okay?"

The Goddess has never listened to Ingrid before, she doesn't know why she thought she would now. "Good night, Sylvain," Ingrid says, her voice laced with disappointment.

"Good night, Ing." And with that, Sylvain departs.

Was it Ingrid's imagination, or was there a glint of sorrow in his eyes? Something about the way his back looks, hunched and defeated, triggers an intense fear. Glenn, the last memory Ingrid has of him is when he faded into the distance, never to return to her again. She can't breathe as Sylvain walks further and further away. Away from a potential _them_. A completed puzzle.

Suddenly, Ingrid doesn't care if she is burnt to ash. All she cares about is sharing this night with him. Maybe, this is how all the other girls fell to his seduction. It doesn't deter Ingrid. She could be dead tomorrow, but tonight is guaranteed.

Dropping her heavy robe, she runs down the hall, heart thundering in her chest. "Sylvain!" Ingrid calls for him, and he turns, his expression sullen, like the war had already been lost. A warm smile spreads on her face. For the first time, she can free herself from expectations, duty, and fear. And it feels exhilarating.

Opening his arms and grounding his stance, Sylvain catches Ingrid, and her mouth crashes into his. The taste of chamomile overwhelms her senses as his soft, wet lips eagerly respond to hers. Perhaps he did mean it when he said she was beautiful. 

Sylvain holds Ingrid flush against his body. His heart is beating as fast as hers is. Could this have been why he came to her room, after all? Weaving her arms around his neck, Ingrid draws him closer. When Sylvain's tongue tickles Ingrid's lips, she opens her mouth, inviting him to deepen the kiss. It's overwhelming and dreamlike to finally be in Sylvain's embrace, kiss him, and smash open the door to her heart again.

They part only to catch their breath. Ingrid never expected her first kiss with Sylvain to leave her so lightheaded. It's cold out here, the slip she's wearing does nothing to shield her from the night's air.

"Cold? My room then?" Nothing escapes Sylvain.

How could she say no when Sylvain looks at her like that? And when she's yearned for this chance? Ingrid nods her answer.

The cold completely dissipates when Sylvain wraps his robe around Ingrid. Callous hands slide down her torso to lift Ingrid from beneath her thighs. As she hooks her legs around him, a giddy anticipation flutters in Ingrid's stomach. Sylvain is taking her to his room. Is this really happening? Ingrid would pinch herself, but now that he is finally in her grasp, she does not want to ever let go.

When they arrive at Sylvain's dormitory, he closes his door by pinning Ingrid up against it. His grip on her thighs tighten, and he presses his hips into hers. A shiver of excitement runs through her as his length grinds against her heat. She's aware Sylvain has done this dozens of times. She knows no girl has ever won over his jaded heart. She unaccepted that this night might mean more to her than it does to him. Still, Ingrid wants this, wants Sylvain, so desperately.

"Ing," Sylvain breathes before his lips meet hers. The kiss is rough, urgent, and she's lost in it. Kissing Sylvain after all of this time feels so right. Ingrid can't stop a moan from slipping out as their tongues roll over each other. Sylvain doesn't let it get past him, breaking from the kiss with a devilish smile spread on his face. "You like that, huh?"

A flush spreads on Ingrid's cheeks. Even though Sylvain knows he's much more experienced than she is, he can't help himself, can he? "Don't tease me," she murmurs.

"I'm loving this side of you. It's hot." Sylvain says as he frees his arms from the robe one at a time. "I can't wait to hear more." His words are electrifying, Ingrid craves for more too. She leans into the trail of soft kisses Sylvain leaves from her jaw to her ear. It can't hurt to give him a little encouragement.

As Sylvain works his way down her neck, Ingrid combs her fingers through his silky red locks. A mischievous smile crosses her face when Ingrid realizes this is her chance to style Sylvain's hair to her preference, wild and messy, like when he returns from battle.

"Hey!" Ingrid's giggle at his frustration is cut short as Sylvain sucks the skin at the corner of her neck, intentionally leaving a mark.

Ingrid should be chiding him for creating evidence of their rendezvous, but being claimed by him is rather satisfying. Sylvain pauses, waiting for Ingrid's response, probably anticipating her to scold him. Playing against his expectations, she squeezes her legs around him, grinding against his hard cock. A low groan from Sylvain reverberates in her ears. Ingrid has never heard Sylvain sound so sexy, so lustful.

"Let's move to the bed," Sylvain says but waits as if it's a question rather than a statement. The thought of leaving his embrace causes a stabbing pain in Ingrid's chest. This is the puzzle piece Ingrid's been missing for ages.

"Okay," she whispers.

How Sylvain handles her, so tenderly, as he lays her on the bed, swells Ingrid's heart. Sylvain is one of the few people in her life who knows how tough Ingrid is, but how damaged and weak she is at the same time. She's damaged because of her loss, and weak to the expectations placed on her by her family. Sylvain never holds back when sparring with her out of respect, but he is soft, patient, and kind outside of the training grounds.

The bed has his scent, a mixture of perfume and cologne that somehow blend together perfectly. Even though Ingrid has wanted this for so long, it dawns on her that she is actually in Sylvain's bed, and butterflies dance in her stomach. _Can I do this?_ _Wasn't I just in my room a moment ago pining for this?_ But daydreams are a safer space where Ingrid has the power to mold and control Sylvain's actions and intentions. Although he acts predictably, the real Sylvain, the one he hides, is deep and complex.

Sylvain blankets Ingrid with the warmth of his body. Something about the weight of his muscular body on hers makes her feel safe and secure. He's always been able to calm her down, he's always been able to protect her--it's one of the things Ingrid admires about him the most.

"Are you nervous?" Sylvain asks. 

Ingrid wishes she could tell him 'no' with ease, but the truth is, she's nervous, scared, and terrified. She's nervous Sylvain will get bored with her and she'll lose his valuable friendship. Ingrid's scared of making plans for the future with him tonight only to help bury him tomorrow. And she's terrified she'll die in battle without him knowing just how deeply she cares for him. Tears are forming in her eyes, but Ingrid does her best to prevent any from falling. She can't let Sylvain see them and ruin this night.

"We don't have to do this if you don't…" Sylvain is interrupted by Ingrid kissing him softly.

"I want to do this with you," she answers, her lips lingering on his. This much is true.

Sylvain looks deep in Ingrid's eyes as if searching for any doubt. Smiling, he nods slightly and kisses Ingrid passionately in response, his hands swiftly locate the hem of her slip to slide it up. Ingrid's pulse triples in speed as the silk glides past her belly button and over her chest. When it nears her arms, their kiss breaks, and she removes it, tossing it to the floor.

He catches her wrists and holds them above her head. Sylvain stares at her as if he was admiring an exquisite painting. "Gods, you're gorgeous," he says. Ingrid quivers at his words and penetrating gaze. Oh, how she craves to tell him, too. Tell him how his smile washes away the anxiety and pain, how this presence immediately calms her, and how badly she needs him in her life, to love, take care of and lean on.

Sylvain's calloused hands trail down Ingrid's arms to cup her breasts, kneading at them in firm, yet gentle motions. His pressure, his rhythm is skilled, practiced, and perfected. Ingrid can't resist arching her back, pushing her chest into his palms. She keens as Sylvain's fingers lightly twist her sensitive nipples.

"That's what I like hearing. Give me more," Sylvain says, shifting his mouth down to swap places with his hand. The flick of his tongue on her tip causes her to jolt and whimper in ecstasy.

If he is _this_ good already, can she even imagine the pleasure he could unlock down _there_? Ingrid instinctively buries her hands in Sylvain's hair, urging him lower.

Sylvain clutches Ingrid's wrist, holding it in place, "You never were the patient type."

At first, Ingrid frowns, but Sylvain's laugh puts her at ease. He kisses her belly button and reassures her, "Don't you worry, I'm going to make you feel so good. I've been dreaming of this for so long."

Excitement runs through her at Sylvain's confession and the promise of more. The idea of Sylvain fantasizing about her is titillating. All this time, they've been longing for each other. Although, Ingrid isn't sure if Sylvain longs for her love as well as her body. Gladly, she would hand over both or either at this point—anything to be near him. 

Sylvain kisses his way from her belly to the top of her smallclothes and stalls. Ingrid holds her breath in anticipation. "Ing, permission to breach the walls?"

Ingrid sighs. How can Sylvain act like a fool when doing something so personal, so private, and embarrassing? The words catch in Ingrid's throat, and as actions have always been more straightforward for her, she spreads her legs wider, hoping that's enough of an answer for him.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ingrid notices the redness on his face. Is Sylvain flushing? Never did she expect him to have such an innocent reaction, especially in this situation. Not only is it adorable, but it causes her to crave his lips, touch, and affection even more. For some odd reason, his fingers are still just lingering above her smallclothes. "Stop teasing me, Sylvain!" Ingrid blurts out as her desperation for him increases. To be close to him, desired by him, taken by him, now that it's finally happening, Ingrid can't wait.

Ingrid's commanding tone jolts him back into the moment. "Sorry, Ing. You're just...so wet." Ingrid's crimson face now matches Sylvain's. "Don't be embarrassed," Sylvain sits up and kneels in front of her to slide her smallclothes down her legs, kissing the top of her knee before removing them. "I'm so excited, too."

There's a latent hunger in Sylvain's voice, and when she peers between his legs, Ingrid can see his braies tenting. The size is intimidating, but Ingrid needs to know how it feels. How deep it could be inside her.

Ingrid never thought she could be so comfortable exposed like this, her heart and body on display. The trust she has in Sylvain is unshakable, as is her devotion to him.

People paint devotion in various colors, devotion to a god, Kingdom, family, friends, lovers, and ideals. It all comes from the same place, a passion, a beating heart, a love. Nobody paints Sylvain with devotion to anything other than fooling around with girls, but Ingrid knows better. She sees his passion on the battlefield, how he protects his friends and homeland by risking his life for a better future.

Ingrid shows her devotion to Sylvain by scolding him, worrying about him, and protecting him. Now, she desires to demonstrate it differently. Ingrid sneaks her thumbs under Sylvain's braies and shoves them down. It's his turn to be open, naked, and on display. A gasp escapes Sylvain's mouth, but he recovers quickly. "Let me," he says, clearing his throat and then assisting her. Once he is free of his white undergarment, he tosses it to the floor. 

Earlier, in the whirlwind of passion, Ingrid failed to notice the multiple white marks on his body from his healed battle wounds, but she can't ignore them anymore. Injuries he got from fighting for his king, future, and friends. Ingrid traces her fingers along each scar and adds little kisses to the particularly deep ones. "They're nothing," Sylvain says with a wiry smile.

Opening her arms, Ingrid beckons for Sylvain. She wants to hold him and protect him from any more harm, an instinct she has always had, for better or worse. 

Sylvain lets Ingrid embrace him for a while before he reclines them back down on the bed, him on top. Ingrid relishes in the sensation of his naked body pressing against hers. Their hearts beat in time as their bodies lean into each other. It's marvelous how they fit perfectly together, two stray pieces of an incomplete puzzle. 

Their lips meet and part again and again as they shower each other with quick kisses. Hands explore both of their bodies, never lingering at one spot. The heat between Ingrid's thighs returns as she gets wetter and wetter. Sylvain is as perceptive as usual and glides two fingers in her soaking cunt. His tempo begins slowly, but Sylvain picks up pace, curling his fingers when he elicits a gasp from Ingrid, and she bucks into him.

Panting hard now, Ingrid grabs the sheets as Sylvain's rhythm increases yet again. The deeper he reaches, into her body, into her heart, the more thankful she is of this puzzle piece. Whatever happens tomorrow, she has this to hold on to forever. 

The pressure in her builds, and so does her need for him. "Sylvain," she groans, "I want you to make love to me." 

"Ing," Sylvain rasps as he positions himself on top of her again, "Anything, for you." Ingrid's heart expands at his words. It's not the words that affect her as much as his tone. Soft, honest, and without a trace of his foolish teasing or playful flirtations. 

Grasping Ingrid's soft hips, Sylvain glides his hard cock gently into her. She inhales sharply as he hits the spot never penetrated before. "Does it hurt?" Sylvain pauses. Ingrid smiles, shakes her head, and then guides his mouth down to hers for a kiss. The kiss relaxes her enough that he can push his length fully into her. Ingrid lets out a gasp as she's now wholly connected to Sylvain. 

"So tight. It feels amazing," Sylvain stutters. Ingrid's arms sneak under his, and she pulls him closer as he starts to rock his hips into hers.

Sylvain's pace is moderate at first, allowing Ingrid time to ease into it. 

She's lost in this new sensation, in her need for him, and in the pleasure that surges each time he goes deeper. Sylvain's breaths are short, and he moans as he cants his hips toward her. Ingrid finds herself following the motion, arching her back to meet his thrusts. Sounds she's never heard from him -groans, grunts, and whimpers- arouse her further.

Ingrid had always been exceptionally flexible, and Sylvain utilizes it as he holds down her inner thighs, opening her up even wider. This new angle allows Sylvain to reach his hand down and caress her clit with his finger, bringing her to unknown heights of stimulation and Ingrid claws at his back, sweating and panting with her mouth agape in pure ecstasy. Sylvain thrusts harder and faster while his finger draws circles on her sensitive clit. The intensity builds to a new dangerous level.

"Sylvain," she begs, "I'm close." It's taking all of Ingrid's strength to prevent her passion from pushing her over the edge.

“Come, my love,” Sylvain coos.

Those words ring in Ingrid's ears like a favorite tune, and as the melody repeats in her head, Sylvain hits that sweet spot. Waves of pleasure cascade through her entire body. Her legs tremble with each ripple, and her nails dig into his skin. "Gods, I love you," Ingrid blurts out in her euphoria.

At her confession, Sylvain's breath hitches and he presses his lips into hers. His thrusting becomes deeper and faster. "I'm close," he grunts.

"Come in me," Ingrid says, but quickly adds, "Dorothea gave me some special herbs." All too well, Ingrid knows countless girls must have begged Sylvain for his seed, his crest lineage, with the intention of improving their social status. Ingrid says it because she adores Sylvain, and she wishes to make him feel as cared for as he's just made her.

"Okay," Sylvain says as he ruts into Ingrid, letting out a guttural moan. Ingrid clings to him as he holds, then trembles as warmth spreads through her core. _He spilled inside me._ As Sylvain's body relaxes, Ingrid is elated. She had the chance to share this with him. It was worth letting herself be vulnerable.

Sylvain catches his breath, settling beside Ingrid and embracing her. This is where Ingrid belongs: head resting on Sylvain's shoulder, leg over his waist, and hand across his chest. They lie in silence, feeling each other's hearts beat and reveling in the afterglow. If only time would stop and they could stay like this forever.

Nuzzling up against Sylvain, Ingrid's anxiety and tension dissipate, and she soon falls into a peaceful sleep. 

~

Sounds of armor clanking down the halls jolts Ingrid awake. Ingrid's heart sinks as she realizes her beautiful dream is over. Stretching her arms out to ease out the knots, she hits something.

"Ow," Sylvain mumbles but doesn't wake.

_Sylvain! In my bed? No, his bed._ Peering down at her naked body, the cogs start turning in Ingrid's brain, and she remembers that her dream actually happened. 

Ingrid takes this rare opportunity to study Sylvain's sleeping face. Even though they'll soon be marching to battle, Ingrid feels blessed she could see Sylvain like this: so unguarded, so innocent and peaceful.

How she hates to wake him up, a tiny part of her is afraid Sylvain will push her away like the others, but there will soon be more people running about outside, and more people to witness them leave the room. Perhaps she should leave without waking him, but she is eager to know what this night meant to him.

Maybe, he shouldn't answer today. Sylvain could reject her or worse, he could make promises he'd never be able to keep. Ingrid doesn't know if she has the capacity to bear any more unfulfilled vows.

Either way, Ingrid cannot stay, and the pain in her chest won't ease. Leaving now would make it easier. There are so many precious pieces she collected last night that she can hold on to.

As painful as it is to do so, Ingrid untangles herself from Sylvain and attempts to rise from the mattress, but Sylvain's hand grasps her arm.

"Hold it! Where do you think you are going?" he says with half-lidded eyes.

"The day has begun. We should get ready for the battle. "Ingrid replies. 

"Ing, wait," the gentle way Sylvain says her name weakens Ingrid's resolve. She allows him to continue. "When I called you 'my love' last night, I meant it." Oh no. "I know I joke about this stuff, but never to you. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know, and I'm so grateful you're trusting me with it." Don't say it. "I promise you that I…" Sylvain stops himself when he sees tears falling from Ingrid's sorrowful jade eyes. He quickly sits up and places his arms around her in a supportive hug.

Ingrid's words catch and die in her throat. _How can I explain it to him? That I'm terrified of losing him, and those promises make it harder, not easier, to fight._

"But if we lose?" Ingrid sniffs.

"We'll be together, Ing. You've always protected me, and I want to protect you, too. From harm and from experiencing the same kind of loss again." Ingrid knows he means Glenn.

The tension in Ingrid's body relaxes. Sylvain always knows what to say. There isn't much more either of them can do besides continue to depend on each other and have each other's backs.

"Ing, part of last night felt like a dream. Can I hear you say it again?" 

Ingrid tries to break from his hold as a dusting of red spreads on her cheeks, but he clings to her. "Please, Ing."

"You have to say it first," she says, turning towards him and burying her face in his shoulder.

Sylvain kisses the top of her head and leans into her to whisper, "I love you, Ingrid Brandl Galatea." A shiver of joy runs through her. Such simple words bring Ingrid back to life.

"I love you too, Sylvain," she kisses his soft lips.

It hits Ingrid then. It was foolish to try to fill the gaps of a puzzle that would only ever expand. Her love and affection for Sylvain is without borders and grows every day. As she stares into Sylvain's affectionate eyes, Ingrid says, "No matter what happens, my heart is full of pieces of you, Sylvain. It always will be."


End file.
